Arrow to the Knee
by Azaisya
Summary: "I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow to the knee." Sick of hearing this yet again, Sylrina runs to Jorrvaskr and complains to none other than Vilkas Jergenson. Their conversation reveals that there is more to the annoying comment than she ever would've thought. Oneshot, semi-crack!fic, I guess, one swear word.


***gasp* I'm actually writing more for Skyrim? Hallelujah! And I'd thought I'd left this archive behind after forcing myself to finish the half-done Of Wolves. Forgot what inspired this.**

**This oneshot features my Imperial Dragonborn, Sylrina Vassgori. This is before she finds out she's Dragonborn. This oneshot does center around that (in)famous quote . . . and its true meaning. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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Uncomfortable with the feeling of warm blood trickling down my leg, I shifted my weight. But my most recent kill, two rabbits, merely hung limply from my belt. Fingers tightening around my bow — which I can proudly say is Orcish, and (not so proudly say) I found on a dead bandit —, I watched as the guards opened up the gate.

"Aren't you that new member of the Companions?" one asked conversationally as he shoved the giant gate, "So you, what, fetch the mead?"

Gritting my teeth, I corrected, "Newest member of the Circle, actually." _And I don't think you know how ironic it is that you used the word fetch. _Not that I had never fetched anything; in fact, I spent most of my time running around Skyrim retrieving things for people.

The other one hastily tried to save his friend's dignity. "I'm sure you have plenty of interesting stories, then."

"You have no idea," I informed them, wanting nothing more to get inside the city already. The blood from the rabbits had gone into my boot by now.

"Have you heard stories of the dragons returning?" one asked, just as I was about to race inside.

Stiffening, I nodded. I would never forget the black dragon's fearsome attacks, the fire and the confusion at Helgen. Ever since, I'd avoided everything to do with dragons. Oblivion, I still hadn't helped the Jarl's court wizard simply because he wanted me to fetch a _Dragon_stone, in the hopes that eventually he would get somebody else to do it.

"Hard to believe, eh?"

"They're true," I said stiffly. "I'm awfully busy. . . . If I could get going?" Damn chatty gate guards to Oblivion.

"Of course, Companion," the guards hastily said. Without waiting another second, I darted inside.

"_Thank_ you."

As I walked through the streets of Whiterun, heading to Jorrvaskr, I smiled at all the people I'd met. The people who had befriended me _before_ I'd become one of the famous Companions.

"I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow to the knee," one of the many Whiterun guards commented as I passed him just after waving to Carlotta.

For a second, I just stared at him. Then I threw my hands in the air and exploded, "Why does every guard I pass say that to me?"

I couldn't see his face under his visor, but I could tell he was smiling. "Ask yourself, Companion."

I sighed and turned down the street, heading towards Jorrvaskr. I was the youngest member of the Circle, and still not altogether comfortable with the role.

As soon as I burst into Jorrvaskr, I shouted, "Vilkas Jergenson!"

Tilma called, from where she was busy sweeping the floor — a job I'd once had at the Bannered Mare, "He's training."

I flashed her a grin and dropped my pack down on the floor as I raced into the training yard. "Vilkas!"

He turned from where he was busy beheading a training dummy. "Sylrina?"

Only Athis was here, and he was eating dinner; the others were out on jobs or getting drunk. "How come every single guard in the whole of Skyrim has had the terrible luck to get shot in the knee with an arrow?"

Vilkas stared at me. "I highly doubt that's possible."

I went over to him, unable to keep back the whine that crept into my voice. "But they keep saying it. Every. Single. Guard. I. Pass."

He just smirked at me. "What do you expect me to do, Little Raven? Ask them to stop?"

I blinked twice before frowning. I honestly didn't know what I expected him to do. "I just can't believe they've all been hit by arrows. I mean, who aims for the knee?"

Vilkas shrugged, leading me over to the secret entrance of he Underforge. We sat down in the shade in front of it, the dark-haired Nord still panting slightly. "You're an archer. Shouldn't you know?"

There was something in his tone that made me look carefully at my friend and mentor. "I only aim for the spots that will instantly kill my opponents, and the knee is just a ridiculous spot to try to hit."

The more intelligent of the Wolf Twins finally laughed loudly. "It's a saying, Sylrina."

I cocked my head, something I did a lot more often now that I was a wolf, eager to learn more about Nordic culture. Having lived in Cyrodiil most of my life, I was still learning things. Sometimes the easy way, sometimes the hard way. "And then I took an arrow to the knee?"

Vilkas nodded. "It means that all of the guards in Skyrim are married."

I stared at him, absorbing the information. "You mean to tell me that arrow to the knee is slang for getting married?" When he just nodded again, I shook my head. "You mean to tell me that all those guards — those sweaty, stinky guards — somehow found wives? Are there even that many women in Skyrim?"

The dark-haired Nord nudged me. "Says the sweaty, stinky Companion."

I shoved him as hard as I could, but he simply braced himself against the wall. "You're sweatier and stinkier than I am. You just finished training." Hesitantly, I added, "So I'm assuming it's referring to the fact that when you propose you go down on one knee?"

The Companion nodded. "See, I knew you weren't stupid."

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**Yes, that is the true meaning of arrow to the knee. If you already knew that, kudos to you. If you didn't, it was my intention to spread the word. Please do review!**


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